


What sort of world is this?

by luckyladylucy



Category: Devil May Cry, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dimension Travel, Miraak is an Ass, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Portals, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2020-10-04 14:03:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20472233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckyladylucy/pseuds/luckyladylucy
Summary: Instead of falling into the demon world at the end of 3, Vergil falls through some sort of portal and onto the island of Solstheim, where he meets our fair High Elf Luali. How in hell is he going to get back? Does he even want to?





	1. Chapter 1

Vergil didn't know where he'd landed.  
He'd slashed Dante's glove as he fell, because he didn't want to be saved. He didn't belong among the weak. No, he was a son of Sparda. Might was his birthright.   
Still, might would do little in the face of unknown surroundings. Vergil spun in a slow circle, trying to pinpoint a landmark, but all he could see was grayish red ash. The sky was gray with it too, and in the distance, he could see a mountain that appeared to be the source.   
It was also very cold, despite the cloud cover. Vergil saw trees, so he assumed there was some form of sunlight in this world, but damn if he could see it. The trees were bare, stripped of leaves and most of their limbs.   
Nothing but ash, everywhere.   
No wonder Sparda had wanted to leave.   
A crash sounded behind him, somewhat far off. It sounded like fire, whooshing by, but Vergil couldn't think of how that was possible. Still, he took off at a brisk pace towards the sound, being careful to place his footsteps carefully. Who knew what lay under that ash?   
As he crested a dune, he spied the source of the noise. A creature, appearing to be made out of the very ash surrounding them, was spewing fireballs out of its hands and at a small figure behind a shield. Vergil scoffed. A shield wouldn't protect against fire.   
Vergil's eyes got a little wider as the fireball literally bounced off the heavy looking shield. He heard laughter, presumably coming from the behind the shield, as the figure ducked low and sprinted at the creature, swinging a sword. The figure moved too fast and was too far off for Vergil to get a good look at the craftsmanship, but he could tell the blade was thin and razor sharp. Likely double edged. Slightly longer than the Yamato at his side.  
The ashen creature crumpled into dust as the sword made contact. The figure finished the swing and sheathed the sword in one smooth, well practiced movement. They knelt down, sifting through the dust left by the creature. Vergil took this chance to slide a little closer, being sure to keep silent.   
The figure rose, satisfied with their search, and began to walk off towards something large and mushroom shaped in the distance. Strange. Vergil had dismissed the structure as something that just occurred in this world, and didn't think to identify it as a landmark. This world was clearly occupied by at least semi-sentient creatures. The thought made Vergil uneasy. He didn't like the unknown.   
The figure disappeared over a dune. Vergil strode forward, determined to keep pace with the only living thing he'd seen for hours, when he tripped suddenly and violently, and only his reflexes kept him from getting a mouthful of ash.  
He pushed up from his fall and spun, startled to find himself looking into a pair of very, VERY green eyes. Something sharp pushed into his throat.   
Vergil eyed the blade poking his Adam's apple. It was jet black, double edged, and carved with silver whorls. But Vergil didn't stop to admire the sword, as his attention was diverted to the "person" pointing it at him.  
The person was clearly female, unless that armor was padded. Her helmet revealed her face, and sweeping curves of blue crystal- no, glass- framed her cheekbones up to her ears. She was wearing some sort of armor, green and gold, with red cloth underneath. Her boots were made of... scales? Vergil frowned, and the girl coughed, bringing his eyes back to her face.  
Her eyes were bright, forest green, and her skin was golden, but not tanned. Golden like the metal, with a subtle inner shine of health. She radiated some sort of power that made Vergil's skin tingle. She opened her mouth, and said,   
"Who in the name of Shor are you?"  
Vergil blinked. English. She spoke English. Where the hell was he?  
"Are you mute, or just stupid?"  
The insult plunked down in him like a stone in water. "I speak perfect English."  
"Then answer my question." Still the blade didn't waver.   
"I don't answer to the likes of you."  
She pushed in closer, and the tingling feeling got stronger, as did the stinging at his throat. She'd drawn blood. "Fine, don't answer. Say your prayers to the divine of your choice." She pulled back and swung-  
and hit only air, as Vergil moved back out of the way and swept to her side, Yamato in hand and the blade laid across her throat. This close, the tingling was almost overwhelming, and Vergil couldn't take it. He asked, "What is that strange sensation?"  
The girl took advantage of his distraction and punched him square in the face. She retreated a few steps and raised her shield, her sword at the ready. "What sensation, skeever?"  
"This.. tingling. It's radiating off of you."  
The girl blinked. "It's magicka, stupid. Have you never met an Altmer before?"  
Their battle was seemingly forgotten as Vergil asked, in a manner entirely unbefitting his intellect,   
"Huh?"  
She rolled her eyes. "Altmer. High Elf. Natives of the Summerset Isle, may the gods smite it to ash."  
Vergil was now thoroughly confused. "I...wha..."  
She tilted her head. "Where are you from?”  
He could answer that. "I was born in Red Grave City."  
"In Morrowind?"  
"I don't know what that is."  
She frowned. "So, you've never heard of the Summerset Isle, or Morrowind. What about Cyrodiil? Skyrim? Valenwood?"  
He felt the beginnings of a headache, and worse still, panic, rising in his gut. "No, none of those." He swallowed his pride, and asked, "Where...where am I? What world is this?"  
She reeled back, her sword and shield dropping a bit. "What WORLD? This is Tamriel. Or, rather, the island of Solstheim. The mages call this world 'nirn'".   
Vergil was now starting to really panic, something he hadn't done since the fire all those years ago. His breathing came faster, and the girl started toward him. "Hey-"  
Vergil slashed out with Yamato, growling incoherently. The girl stopped, slung her shield across her back, and sheathed her sword. "Hey. You need to breathe. You don't want to pass out here, it's not safe."  
Indeed, he could here strange noises out in the ashy wastes. He took a deep, deep breath, held it, and released it.   
"Good." Patronizing bitch. "Look, I know I pointed a sword at you and all, but clearly, you need help." Patronizing BITCH.  
"Why don't you follow me to Raven Rock, and we can talk this out? Maybe I know someone who can help us understand what's going on."  
He hated to do it. He really, really hated the idea of following a complete stranger, a non-human, anywhere, but he hated even more the idea of being on his own out here. It was cold, and alien, and the panic was barely contained.  
He sheathed Yamato. "Very well. Lead the way."


	2. Raven Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to pretend that shein and sujamma are food, and not alcohol. It's never specified in game.

They walked slowly over the ashy hills. The woman kept her eyes on the ground, watching her foot placement. Vergil was reciting poetry in his mind, trying to keep himself grounded.  
Every so often, she would unsheathe her sword and stab it into the soft ground, and a quiet squeak would sound from under a blanket of ash. She grumbled something about hoppers, and kept marching determinedly along, apparently knowing where they were going.  
Still, Vergil hadn’t seen a single change of scenery in at least twenty minutes, so he asked, “Are you sure you know where you’re going?”  
She ignored the bite in his tone. “We’re heading for the coast, and from there we can see the road to Raven Rock.” She stabbed her blade into the ground again, stumbling a bit as she did so. “Cursed ash hoppers. Ankle breaking little snipes.”  
Vergil asked again, with more of a bite, “You don’t know where the road is, woman?”  
She huffed, still not stopping to look at him. “My name is Luali Larea of House Stormaire, for your information, and you are rude for not asking. No, I don’t know the exact location of the road to Raven Rock. I do know, however, it is clearly visible from the coast, at least on this half of the island. I will get us there safely.” She spoke between breaths as they breached a hill, and below them stretched a mixture of sand and ash, and beyond that, the sea. “Behold, stranger, the Sea of Ghosts.” She gestured to her right, and said, “Raven Rock is that way. Do you see the road, lined with wood posts?”  
Indeed, Vergil thought. He gritted his teeth. “I see it.”  
She stopped then, and turned to face him with a wide, open smile. “Then let’s go.”  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
An hour or so later, with Luali shooting him curious looks every few yards, Vergil sighted a looming wall, and a tunnel leading down. Banners waved red, with a symbol he didn’t recognize. As they walked through, Vergil felt suddenly self-conscious.  
Everyone stared as he passed. Most had dark, blueish skin and dark red eyes, and were wearing dark robes. Others were wearing yellowish armor, their faces covered with helmets. As far as Vergil could see, there was only one human looking person, with dark hair and eyes, working at some sort of a grindstone. With a start, he realized Luali also stood out, with her golden hair and skin. If she was a High Elf, then were these Low Elves?  
One elf-man came forward and greeted Luali, and then turned to look at Vergil. “And who is this newcomer, friend? Is he one of yours?”  
Vergil bristled. “I am not one of anyone’s, Low Elf. Mind your tongue before I remove it.” He put his hand on the hilt of Yamato.  
The elf sputtered. “Why- you”  
Luali intervened with a charming smile. “Second Councilor, I apologize for my friend here. He has been through an awful ordeal at the hands of, “ she hesitated, just slightly, “the Morag Tong. He’s exhausted, and likely ill. I was taking him to the Netch to get him something to eat, and then to the Manor for some rest.” She smiled again, with dimples, and the man folded.  
“Very well. I’ll overlook the insult. See that he behaves, won’t you?” And he strode off in the direction of one of the houses.  
Luali elbowed Vergil hard in the side. “Do you want to get us thrown in jail?” she hissed.  
Vergil ignored her, taking in the town around him. The ocean was feet away, and there were wood houses lining the dock. To his right were mushroom-like buildings rising out of the ash, forming a semicircle around a well. The presence of other beings, despite their alien appearance, had done something to alleviate some of his panic. Strange, he’d never found comfort in the presence of others before.  
Luali rolled her eyes and took his arm, and Vergil fought the urge to backhand her. “Come on, this way. We’ll get you something to eat.”  
Vergil stared stupidly at her, for daring to touch him. “I possess no funds.”  
She laughed, a bright, bell-like sound. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I can afford some sujamma for you.” She reached down into some hidden pocket and pulled out a very fat satchel. She shook it, and Vergil heard coins clanking together. She pulled him forward, and Vergil allowed her to.  
The inn was called the Retching Netch, as he was informed by the overly cheerful elf behind the counter. The place was very warm, and smelled strongly of earth, stone, and cooking food. Luali pushed him into a chair by the fire and strode off to chat with the elf in charge. She pulled out a handful of fat gold coins and he went into a room behind the counter, returning with two white flasks and one yellow. He said something to her, she laughed that bell-like laugh, and she veritably bounced back to Vergil. He watched her, this strange elf-woman. He was sure she would ask for repayment for the food.  
She slid into the chair opposite him, seeming perfectly comfortable in her armor. “The white is shein, and the yellow is sujamma. Drink slow, it’s heavy on the stomach.” She took a small gulp of hers, and grinned at him. Vergil took a small taste out of his white flask, and coughed at the strange taste. It was salty, and earthy. Still, he felt it settle in his stomach in a pleasing way.  
“So,” Luali began, and Vergil tensed. “I don’t know your name.”  
Vergil weighed his options. He decided on the truth, for now. “Vergil.”  
She giggled. “That’s a funny name.” She took another sip of her shein, and sobered. “Vergil,” she said, and Vergil sat back, surprised by the abrupt change from her flippant tone. “I need to know. What happened? How did you come here?”  
Vergil went rigid. “I don’t answer to you.”  
Luali sat forward in her chair, giving him a hard stare that rattled him. “You’d better start, if you want my help. I’m happy to help you, but not if you continue this hostile act. I will leave you here, and you can see who else is willing to help find out where you came from and how to get back. With that attitude, you won’t get far.” She held his gaze with that same, hard, flat look. “I know people on the continent, people who’ve studied magic longer than I’ve been alive. You will have a much easier time getting back home if I talk to them with you. They don’t like strangers.” Suddenly, her entire demeanor shifted, and she looked at him with sympathy. She put her hand over his, and the tingling sensation returned in force. “I bet you’re scared,” she said, and Vergil was so out of sorts, so full of panic and fear and anger, that he allowed the touch, and the sympathy. “I understand. I’ve been stranded before, in strange places. I wouldn’t be alive if I hadn’t had help. I’d like to repay their kindness now, by helping you. But you have to talk to me, yeah?” She smiled tentatively.  
Vergil sucked in a deep breath. He hadn’t stopped to think since he jumped off the ledge, after his defeat at the hands of Dante. It all hit him at once. The shame of defeat, the rage at the shame, the burning desire for more power, and the panic at finding himself in a strange, alien world with no foreseeable way of getting back. As he processed all these thoughts, he found himself grateful for Luali’s hand over his, giving him strength.  
Vergil exhaled, and began the tale of recent events, from the Temen-ni-Gru and Arkham, to the fight with Dante in the Demon World. “My brother said his soul told him to stop me,” Vergil said in a low tone. “I said our souls were at odds. I needed- need- more power, my father’s power. We fought.” He closed his eyes, seeing the rushing river, the Force Edge, Dante’s face as they battled. “I lost,” he choked out, “and then the amulets were separated, and the portal started to close. I said I was staying here, as it was our father’s home. And I followed the river to the edge, and jumped. Dante tried to grab my hand, I know not why, and I slashed his hand as I fell. I felt my body hit something soft, and when I opened my eyes, I was here.”  
Luali kept quiet throughout his tale, her hand still covering his. Her eyes were thoughtful, and as he finished, she pulled her hand back to take a gulp of the sujamma. Wordlessly, she passed it to him, and after he sipped, she said, “That’s quite a tale.”  
He stiffened again, bracing for condemnation. It didn’t come.  
She continued, “I understand the quest for power. My family is much the same, forever pushing the boundaries of magic and nature. My family name, Stormaire, is derived from our earliest accomplishment: lighting spells. We were the first mortals in existence to bend lightning, and cast it as one casts flame spells. What isn’t well known,” she grimaced, her eyebrows pulling together in anger, “is how many people died in the experiments. How else were they to know if it caused damage?” she laughed mockingly. “This was all before I was born, centuries ago, but I still carry the weight of those lives lost.” She looked at him then, and there was a kind of clarity, certainty, in her face. “I’ll help you, Vergil. I’ll do what I can to send you back. On one condition.”  
Vergil inclined his head, waiting for the impossible task, the request for money, or something perhaps more intimate.  
“Seek out your brother immediately upon your return.”  
Vergil choked. “Excuse me?”  
“I said, seek out your brother.”  
“I heard you,” he growled, anger curling in his belly. “I have no desire to speak to that weak, ignorant buffoon.”  
“He clearly cares about you, or he wouldn’t have tried to pull you back from the edge of Oblivion, sorry, the Demon World.” Suddenly, she reeled back. “Oblivion!”  
She stood and started pacing, ignoring the stares of the patrons around her. “It wouldn’t be completely outside the bounds of possibility,” she muttered, chewing on her left thumbnail. “If you somehow found a gate, and fell through it by mistake…” she trailed off.  
“Luali,” he said. “You are not speaking sense.”  
“Yes, I am, you just don’t understand it. It would make sense, given that we know next to nothing about the realms of Oblivion, besides what was learned of the realm ruled by Mehrunes Dagon in the Oblivion Crisis. There are other planes, other realms, and surely some of them have gates leading to other worlds. You’re proof of their existence.” She grinned a happy grin, and Vergil found himself starting to smile back.  
He caught himself quickly. “What does all this mean?”  
“It means, I know who to talk to. It’s only a theory, of course, but it’s a start. You didn’t end up here by chance. You said your father sealed the portal inside the tower? I wonder if it’s all he sealed away. Maybe he knew where that waterfall led.”  
A sort of dark humor passed through Vergil. “My father loved his secrets, more than he ever loved us.” He chuckled. He felt a little fuzzy in the head, and warm. He started to take off his coat.  
Luali smiled grimly. “I can relate.” She put an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, Vergil. I think you’re starting to fall asleep.” She reached over and shook his flask of shein. “Goodness, you drank the whole thing. No wonder.” She hefted him up out of his chair, and Vergil was surprised at her strength. She slung his arm over her shoulders, and he realized he was listing from side to side. He was warm inside, and it felt wonderful. Luali pulled him along, guiding him carefully up the stairs.  
She shouted out, “Hey Mogrul, will you get the door for us? This one here is falling dead asleep!”  
Mogrul growled at her. “That’s his fault. Get it yourself.”  
Vergil didn’t like his tone. He started to pull away, but Luali held firm, surprising him again with her strength. “I’ll make sure to tell Geldis you said that, skeeverbreath.”  
She approached the heavy wood double doors, lifted her right leg, and kicked so hard, the door flew off its hinges and landed by the well. Vergil stared at her, openmouthed. “How strong are you?”  
She ignored him. “Enjoy paying for that, Mogrul!” she called over her shoulder, and pulled Vergil away. They headed down the path, away from the town center, and went up a small path to another one of the mushroomlike houses.  
Luali leaned Vergil up against the doorway. “Stay still, or you’ll eat ash,” she warned. She pulled a key from a hidden pocket and unlocked the door. She reached for him again. “Can you walk?”  
Vergil shook his head no. He was starting to fade in and out. Warm, and dark….  
“All right. Come on.” Luali slung his arm over her shoulders again, and walked him inside. “Glad I have a spare bed,” she grunted, “because the floor is very hard stone.” She guided him down another flight of stairs, to the left, and into a dark room. “Alright, take off your boots.”  
Vergil sleepily complied, fumbling with the laces, but finally both his feet were bare. He started to lay down, but Luali asked, “Do you sleep in your clothes?”  
Vergil nodded. “Get cold otherwise,” he slurred.  
Luali laughed. “Sleep, Vergil,” she said in a quiet voice. “I’ll keep the dragons away.”  
There were footsteps, a closing door, another closing door, and then Vergil faded into the soft, warm dark.


	3. Windhelm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival in Windhelm. Some of this isn't canon.

_Thunk_.  
Vergil was slow to wake- drowsiness clung to him, and he was very warm and comfortable. The softness of the furs beneath him was unbelievable.  
Furs… Thunk  
Slowly, Vergil began to remember the events of yesterday, and the panic set in. He opened his eyes and saw stone above him, indeed, he thought, this is not a dream.  
_Thunk._  
Vergil rolled out of bed, reluctant to leave the soft fur behind. _Thunk_. But that noise was beginning to annoy him.  
He strode across the very large room to the double doors and yanked them open, a snarl already building in his throat.  
Across the hallway, Luali was practicing archery, the bow in her hands black, streaked with red. She was barely sweating, but Vergil counted at least 30 arrows sunk into the hay target. Impressive, he thought. She’s a good shot.  
Luali strung her bow across her back and nodded to him. “We leave for Skyrim as soon as you’re ready,” she said.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The journey wasn’t a long one. The Northern Maiden approached a stone harbor less than a day after departure. The wind off the sea was frigid, but at least Vergil wasn’t choking on ash.  
Luali paced as the crewmen rushed around the deck, making ready to dock. Though Vergil hadn’t known her for more than two days, she didn’t strike him as a nervous person. He contemplated asking, but he did not like people prying into his thoughts, so he granted her the same courtesy.  
The dock was empty, save for two lizard type people. Vergil decided not to ask. Captain Gjalund called to them, and the crewmen tossed them ropes and shouted various commands. To Vergil’s surprise, the lizard people pulled the ship almost flush to the dock, using two ropes and their own strength. After tying off the lines to posts along the dock, the lizard people ran off, one behind a set of double doors, and the other around a corner, disappearing from view.  
Luali leaped over the side of the ship, landing nimbly on the snowy stone dock. She frowned at the corner where one of the lizards had disappeared. Not quite turning her back on it, she turned to Vergil. “So, are you warm enough? I should have asked before we left Raven Rock, but Windhelm is snowier, and I think it’s colder. If you need winter gear, we should make a stop.”  
Vergil shook his head as he stepped onto the dock next to her. “This coat is all I require.” He followed her gaze, eyeing the corner causing her concern. “What are you looking for?”  
Luali’s entire face tightened with some emotion Vergil couldn’t name, and anger. Definitely anger. “I’m not welcome in the city. It’s best if we move on before I’m noticed.”  
Vergil remembered the lizard who had disappeared around the corner as soon as the ship docked. “We should make haste. I suspect we’ve been noticed.”  
Luali didn’t ask any questions, but she rested her hand on her sword. She whispered three words, almost silently, but the sounds carried. _Las YahNir_.  
Vergil decided to not ask questions, as it would make him seem even more the fool. But Luali’s face went white under her golden skin, Vergil placed his hand on Yamato and scanned the docks.  
Two men had appeared out of a set of double wood doors, wearing helmets that fully covered their faces, and blue cuirasses. Both had drawn weapons.  
Luali started toward the corner, but drew up short as three more men came around, weapons drawn. The one in front wore an armored bear skin and carried a huge battle axe. His gaze was fixed on Luali with no short amount of malice.  
Luali kept her hand on her sword, but didn’t draw it. “Galmar. What do you want?”  
Galmar drew his axe, and the men around him followed suit. “Your head on a pike, you Thalmor bitch.”  
Luali drew her sword, and though it was shorter than the battle axe now pointed at her, she didn’t seem afraid. “I’m not with the Thalmor, Galmar. Let us pass, and I’ll never set foot here again.”  
Galmar laughed. “And pass up revenge for the slaughter at Whiterun? Never. My men await justice in Sovngarde. My axe will taste your blood this day.”  
Luali dropped into a fighting stance. “It’s dragon blood you would spill. I am all that can defeat the Bane of Kings, and you would have my head?”  
Vergil had watched this exchange with trepidation and bewilderment, but he recognized the soldiers behind them were readying to attack. He drew Yamato, letting the blade scrape the sheathe, the delicious sound sending thrills through him. Dante and Vergil had few things in common, but the love of battle was one of them. His senses were all on full alert, and his blood was singing with joy. He was sure these men would provide no challenge, but Vergil was happy to have an outlet for his panic and rage.  
Galmar was speaking, “Ulfric is skilled in the way of the voice, and he will have no trouble taking on the World Eater. Perhaps he will take on the mantle of Dragonborn, after you fade from memory.” He gestured with his axe. “Bring me her head!”  
Before the men could even take a step, Luali lifted her head and shouted. _FusRo_!  
Vergil blinked, and the men were flying backwards, crashing against the stone wall. The men facing Vergil charged, and he gave them a vicious smile as he rushed them, faster than they could hope to be, and sliced them to ribbons. Adrenaline poured into his veins, and his demonic blood roared in pleasure. He swung around, making for Galmar and his lackeys.  
Luali gripped his arm in a death grip, and dragged him back, toward the water. “No, we have to get out of here!”  
Vergil’s demonic blood protested, demanding more bloodshed, more carnage. But reason, which in that moment sounded like Dante’s voice, told him to follow her lead. She had the experience here.  
Together, they charged for the harbor. Arrows whizzed over their heads. They plunged into icy water, and the shock gave Vergil a harsh reminder that he was still half human. The thought brought a snarl to his lips.  
Luali was already swimming to the shore, faster than she should have been able to in full armor. Vergil quickly caught up to her, and they dragged themselves out on the icy banks.  
There was no pause for breath. An arrow struck Luali in the shoulder, bouncing off her armor but no doubt leaving a vicious sting behind. She gestured with her head and sprinted up the hill. “The stables,” she gasped. Vergil charged ahead of her, easily overtaking her.  
He followed the scent of hay and manure, and didn’t stop to talk or explain to the confused looking elf holding a broom. Vergil grabbed the reins of one horse, and Luali skidded around the corner, grabbing them and swinging on with practiced ease. “No horse?” she asked, in between breaths.  
“No need.” Vergil could easily outrun any horse, and he’d never ridden one besides.  
Luali asked no questions, just kicked her horse’s sides and laying low over its neck as it shot forward, charging out of the stables and onto the icy road up a slight hill. “Follow me!” she called over her shoulder. “South!”  
They fled, Vergil keeping pace with her galloping horse, until the icy road grew less icy and the trees became more abundant. Vergil had no idea where they were going, but Luali clearly did. They finally came to a slow, and then a stop, as a beat up watchtower came into view. The sun had fully risen now, and it had to be past noon. They’d been running for hours.  
Luali dismounted her horse and lead the beast to a small patch of grass. She flopped down under a tree, sighing heavily. “Sorry about that.”  
Vergil had questions.


End file.
